The Old Man
by Niham
Summary: While passing through a village, Ginko encounters an old man who mistakes him for his son. But is he the old man's son? Ginko doesn't think so.


**Disclaimer**: I don't own Mushishi.

**The Old Man**

I was passing through a village where I met a crazy old man who had mistaken me for his lost son…

It was a small village, set deep in the boscage. Scattered here and there alongside the old road, were shambled huts, with shabby thatched roofs; they were windowless dwellings, worn and artless. It was a humble and half primitive settlement.

The jungle was too thick and humid, and the trees were grown too close together to allow for farming; the village was too poor for trading. From the looks of it, these people in their dirty rags and hollow, sunken eyes were just barely getting by on their own.

I was partially intimidated by their poverty, and was trying to hurry through before the curtain of night settled over the jungle.

Then I heard someone calling out after me. His voice resounded through the knotted trees with such a desperate, almost pathetic ring. I didn't respond because it wasn't my name. So I ignored it and pressed on.

But still he yelled, "Yoki!"

He repeated it over and over again until all the villagers came out into the street to observe the commotion. I could feel their stares pierce my back. They whispered amongst themselves worriedly, excitedly.

"Yoki!"

Annoyed, I stopped, sighed, and turned to see what all the commotion was about.

What a mistake.

Out of nowhere, two skinny cold hands cupped my face. The old man stared at me; his dirty fingers trembled on my cheeks. He was tall and limber. His nose was long and straight, his jaw square and firm. Through tears he called me Yoki again. He called me his son, saying how wonderful it was that I was alive.

I was utterly horrified.

The smell of poverty, dirt and sickness was awful.

I tried to free myself, but it only seemed to distress the old man even more.

He looked at me sadly. "Don't you remember me, Yoki?" he said.

I told him no, and then I told him my name was Ginko, not Yoki.

His weathered face contorted into a miserable expression. I couldn't help but pity the man. "No," he said. "I know you. You look different now, but I know you. What happened, Yoki? How did you survive that fall? Did someone find you? Did they take good care of you?"

I gently pushed him away. "I'm sorry," I told him. "But I'm not your son. You've made a mistake." As I turned away, he grabbed my arm. His grip was surprisingly strong.

"Why don't you remember?" he demanded. "What's changed you?" His dark eyes went hard as if he were trying to see through me.

He said in low voice, "Is it because of the strange things you see? Those things were so real to you. Did they change you?"

A coincidence, I told myself. Although, I have to admit, I was a little surprised, if not a little curious. His son must have been able to see Mushi. I was half tempted to stay and ask questions. Well, until I remembered that the old man thought _I _was his son.

Again, I gave him a sincere apology and turned away. I felt bad for being so crude; he looked so heartbroken.

Then, with sudden confidence, he said, "If you're not my son, then tell me where were you born?"

I stopped. I honestly couldn't answer that. "I wouldn't know," I said.

His sallow face lit up triumphantly. "And your mother's name? Tell me her name. I'll be damned if it's any different than my wife's." 

Again, I couldn't answer that. "I can't say," I said. "I have no relocations of those things."

"You must have hit your head in the fall," said the old man. "That's why you don't remember. You were only ten—"

Age. Another odd coincidence. I had to leave now before he actually convinced me that I was his son, when I knew I was not.

I couldn't be.

My name is Ginko. My name is the only link I have to the past, and it does not match the name the old man called me. My sole key to what once was does not fit that lock.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I can't deny or accept your claims. I have to go."

This time, he did not chase after me. I left him sobbing on the old highway, ignoring the glares and whispers of the observing women. Whether or not it was the truth, I do believe that some things are best left in the dark. 

A/n: I hope this turned out all right. I don't seem to be in my writing groove today…oh well. This was just another something I felt like writing. I don't think they ever mentioned Ginko's father in the anime, but whatever. There's another part that I still have to type up so I'm not finished yet. Enjoy…and review.


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